


Us

by AlessiaHeartilly



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlessiaHeartilly/pseuds/AlessiaHeartilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a routine in his life he actually likes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Us

**US**

" _Till this moment,_ _I_ _never knew myself."  
\- Jane Austen, "Pride and Prejudice"_

 **I**  
It all starts after a mission.

In the Infirmary, with his leg broken and a concussion, he thinks that the things he's thinking about are just pain-killer induced. His mind feels cloudy and his body feels a total mess and he's trying to remember just how many times he ended up here, in this same bed, with injuries that the doctor tried to cure, after berating him because she thought he was a bit reckless.

He's never been reckless. He just likes challenges.

But right now all he can think about is Rinoa and leaving and never ending up in the Infirmary's bed again. It's been two years since he saved the world, and he doesn't know how many missions he completed after that. But he's only nineteen and he's tired and he's thinking about Rinoa and leaving Garden, and everything feels so right and so painful, and he's just confused and hurt and utterly torn between two things he loves.

The door opens, the doctor enters, and she visits him again. He doesn't even listen to her because he know perfectly well what she's saying, and what she'll say after this, and what she'll say next time she'll visit him. He's tired and he's only nineteen, and he's so confused by himself that he'd rather think it's all the painkillers' fault.

But somehow, deep inside him, in that place in his soul he guards like a precious possession, even from Rinoa, he knows it's not that. It's not just the painkillers, and when Rinoa finally reaches the Infirmary and sits beside his bed, he says it, almost unconsciously.

"It's not just the painkillers," he starts.

"What-?" She tries to understand, but she also thinks he may be delirious.

"It's not just the painkillers, Rinoa. It's…"

There's a silence stretching between them, and then her magic feels something, hears something, like something crumbling to ground, like a defense shattering. Like a soul opening, she realizes.

"I don't want to stay here anymore," he finally elaborates. His mind is foggy and messy, but this is clear, this is something shouting in his soul: he doesn't want to stay here anymore.

"The doctor says you need to stay here for a couple of days. The healing magic will cure you faster, but she wants to be sure."

"You don't understand," he whispers, and closes his eyes. The sound of his locks shattering is almost deafening, and he feels almost choked, and it takes him a few minutes to understand he's just moved to tears.

His voice is broken, too, and everything in him seems broken and hurt, but he knows he never felt so healed in all his life.

"I don't want to stay at Garden anymore, Rinoa."

She says nothing. She moves her chair nearer, so she can reach out her hand and caress his hair. "Where do you want to go, then?"

"I-I don't know." The future is right before him, but his mind is too numb to see it clearly. "To us," he says before falling asleep.

She cries, then.

 **II**  
He chooses Timber.

Rinoa says he doesn't have to choose Timber because of her, but he really wants to go there and live there. He knows why, though: in Timber many things happened for the first time, for him. He shook a girl's hand – Rinoa's hand – when he started his first, fateful mission as a SeeD. He found for the first time someone that could stand up to him – Rinoa - and also someone that made him rethink about his beliefs – Rinoa, again. He took his first decisions as a leader. And later, after the war ended, he almost got drunk for the first time in Timber. It was a celebration party and everyone kept toasting to something, and at the end of the evening he found himself much bolder than usual, and he ended in Rinoa's room. She was warm and naked and soft, and she was the first person to welcome him in every possible way.

So he chooses Timber, because the future is always so unknown. He needs something to cling to, something in his past, something that can connect him to the life he has chosen. Rinoa tells him, just once, he doesn't have to do it for her. He shakes his head and they never talk about it again.

She uses the money of her mother's fund to buy the bookstore in Timber. He still doesn't know what to do with his life, but he trusts her. She says he just needs time: his leg is still healing properly, and he has all the time of the world to understand what he wants to do. He buys a house in the middle of the city, near their shop, with a big olive tree that brushes their bedroom's window with its branches. There's a wonderful garden in the backyard, and there's room enough to have a swimming pool too, and he buys also the pool on a spur of the moment. He likes water, he can swim. Rinoa agrees, because she thinks it's a wonderful place to receive friends too, and a party with a swimming pool will be fun. She can almost see it: the pool, the olive tree with its branches offering the comfort of shadow in hot summer afternoons, even the deck chairs.

Squall smiles. The idea of a small party with their friends is not so scary or annoying anymore.

They keep choosing things together. He actually likes that kind of adjusting to each other. They never lived together, and they still have to understand how to respect each other's time and space. Rinoa knows he needs something to take out his pent up stress on, and Squall knows she needs something cozy and comfortable.

They both wonder, though, at the many things they agree upon.

**III**

He stays in her shop for a few weeks.

He helps her choosing the furniture, the books, and he even gives her a wonderful idea. She'll have a café, too, a kind of literary café where people can read books and talk about them while drinking tea and eating cookies. Squall says he'll gladly run the café, while she takes care of the books. She accepts, but he'll have to wait until his leg will be completely healed.

He finds out many things about himself, in these few inactive weeks. He finds out he likes reading history books, and action novels. He likes thrillers too, even if he understands who's the killer almost immediately. And sometimes he spends his time skimming through do-it-yourself books, because he wants to learn how to fix things in their house. It's summer, and sometimes he just stretches out on the deck chairs in their garden, and read about knights and sorceresses, and he actually itches to fight again, because he wants to be able to protect his sorceress, if she needs him.

But sometimes he just stays in the shop, with a open book on the counter, and watches her, leaning his cheek on his palm. She's happy, he thinks. She's bright and beautiful and always smiling, even when they fight, because she said once that she wants her shop to be a happy island, where people can seek refuge in books and their worlds. He has never really understood her love for books until now: they were just things, to him, things to learn some other things.

But now he understands. There are so many worlds in their shop, so many experiences, so many fantasies and dreams and hopes. So many tears and so many laughs. He actually thinks it's fitting for Rinoa, for them, to give the others so much with a few pages, after they gave them back the world they live in.

Rinoa lets him watch her, and sometimes she lifts her eyes from the book she's reading, too, and smiles. He thinks she's beautiful, even with the reading glasses she hates so much, and he sees how she's beautiful inside, too, and he feels so lucky that sometimes he just stands up, goes to her and takes her to the back of the shop, both laughing, to make love. He likes the feeling of her warm and naked body, he likes her summer dresses and how light they are against his hands, around her hips, and the feeling of her smiling lips against his own, against his skin. He likes hearing how she moans his name.

And the freedom of being with her, this hot and tangled and liberating freedom he never thought he deserved.

 **IV**  
There's a routine in his life he actually likes.

His leg is fully healed, and he managed to get Rinoa to agree to a little exercise, just to be in shape, to defend and protect her if he needs too. He usually wakes up, has breakfast, and goes out to train a little. It's not much: just jogging and fighting monsters too weak for him. Then he goes back, has a shower, and open the shop's café. There's always a muffin waiting for him when he comes back, and he always smiles. He hugs Rinoa from behind and moves her hair to kiss her on the neck.

But it's the things he learned that he likes. Sometimes he feels like he never knew himself until he met Rinoa; it's not just the things about himself, it's also everything he likes and he never knew. Rinoa taught him how to love cold winter evenings on the sofa, watching a movie together. She taught him the beauty of spending a summer afternoon on the beach, relaxing on the sand, getting in the sea when it becomes too hot. She taught him how to love their new weekly routine of a movie on Thursday evenings, with popcorns and a walk back home at night, with her arm around his waist and his own around her shoulders. She taught him how to make hot chocolate in cold winter afternoon, when there's no one in the shop, and how to eagerly wait for the cold ice tea in summer, when it's still too hot for people to go out and enter their shop. She taught him it's alright to be lazy on Sunday mornings, to stay in bed a little longer, and she taught him also the beauty of making love in rainy days, when there's a storm outside and the olive tree's branches almost crash against their window. And she taught him how to do the daily crossword on Timber Maniacs, and he likes being watched by her, at breakfast, as he solves it while sipping coffee. There's an entire world outside Garden and Garden's routines, and he starts to love everything she has to offer, everything the city has to offer: there are concerts in winter evenings, music he has never heard and never cared to, there's food he never had a chance to taste, there are old black and white movies to see on Wednesdays – but he gladly skips the discussion after the movie – there are museums to visit on weekends, and there's a park, in the west site of the city, cut by a river, where they go on summer Sundays, and stay like that, to read and talk and just walk under the trees.

It's the talking that actually makes him wonder. He's never talked so much in his life, but there are evenings on the sofa where he just talks and she listens. There are memories of his childhood, memories of his life at Garden, things he just wants to tell her, to make her part of his past even when he didn't know her. He feels like she's always been there, with him, and he knows it's impossible, but he feels it and he wants her to know it. He talks and talks and talks, and Rinoa makes hot tea and they share a blanket, and sometimes he could swear he feels a tear wetting his shirt. He says nothing, then, just holds her, until she lifts her face and smiles and tells him she's just so happy.

He is, too, even if he's not sure he knows what 'happy' means.

 **V**  
In Rinoa's shop, he learns he likes art.

It's a cold snowy afternoon in Timber. They opened the shop nonetheless, but Rinoa thinks nobody will come, because streets are snowy and dangerous and people will gladly stay home. They're bored, drinking hot chocolate, each reading a book. Squall has chosen a random book, and it's about drawing techniques. He's intrigued, but he doesn't want Rinoa to know yet, so when she announces she's going to have a hot shower, he just smiles and says he'll stay here a little more, maybe close the shop in half an hour.

He pulls out a blank sheet and starts drawing. He needs a subject, though, and he chooses Rinoa almost naturally, imagining her with her reading glasses, sitting at the shop's counter, with her steaming hot chocolate and her book. Drawing comes naturally to him, and when he's done he decides he'll go to the stationer's to buy colors tomorrow. He puts the drawing in a drawer, so Rinoa won't see it, closes the shop and goes home.

The next day is still snowy and cold, and they could stay home. Rinoa decides she won't open the shop, but he says he needs to go to the café nonetheless. She shrugs her shoulders, says it's ok, and pulls out a recipe book to choose something for lunch.

It takes him the entire morning to color his drawing, but when he's done, he's almost satisfied. He never knew he could draw like that, he never knew he liked to draw, but he knows now he just wants to get better. He takes his drawing to Rinoa, and finds her leaning on the kitchen counter, carefully following the recipe's instructions to prepare a hot soup. He smiles, and then he greets her as he always does: he hugs her from behind, moves her hair and kisses her on the neck.

"There's something I want to show you," he says.

She turns, smiling a naughty smile that makes him shake his head. "It's not what you think," he adds, and then he gives her the drawing. She looks at it for a while. "So?" he asks, almost impatiently.

"You're very good, but I'm not that beautiful, and I hate those glasses," she answers.

"You are," he says, caressing her cheek. "I like drawing," he continues, as if he's confessing a very important secret.

It's a code language for them: sometimes, in lazy mornings when they stay in bed longer, he says he's never done something. She understands he wants to try, and find a way to let him experience everything he may be curious about. And then, if he liked it, he just says it like that.

He said he liked something many times: I like movies on Thursdays, I like popcorn, I like eating pizza in that restaurant on Fridays, I like reading action books, I like history books, I like hot chocolate at five, I like the children's corner you want to set up in the shop, I like museums, I like the park, I like, I like, I like.

It's almost a discovery, and she feels like they should celebrate every time he finds out he likes something.

She smiles, then. "I like your drawing."

Next morning, when he comes back from a really short training routine, he finds a muffin on his counter, along with a complete drawing set and a brochure about an art course starting next week.

 **VI**  
The art course is the first thing he does without Rinoa.

He tries to convince her to come along, but she simply shakes her head. "Do you remember the President's train?"

He smiles, and there's almost a laugh dancing in his eyes. "You said you did it on purpose because you hated him."

"Trust me, it would have been that bad even if I really loved him."

So he goes alone, with the drawing set she bought him under his arm, and his head full of questions and doubts and ideas. When he enters the course's room, he finds out there are only four participants, and he feels slightly better.

He absorbs everything the teacher says and shows, and he comes back home, at eleven pm, to find Rinoa waiting for him, with a blanket on her legs and Angelo sleeping near the sofa.

"So? Did you like it?"

He just nods, and then sits next to her to hug her. "Thank you."

She kisses him, and before she realizes it he has taken the blanket away and lifted her to bring her to the bedroom, and she laughs, because she likes making him happy, and even if he doesn't understand there's no need to repay her, he always tries to make her happy too. Sometimes it's a flower on the kitchen table or a new book on her pillow, and sometimes it's just making love. He's always so sweet and passionate, so strong and powerful, and so naïve and grateful.

She falls asleep on his chest, after, and when she wakes up the next morning there's a drawing on her nightstand. It's her, naked under the blankets, sleeping on her side, with her hair on her pillow and the sheets leaving her back uncovered. She feels it's something he does so she can see herself with his eyes, and she finally understands how beautiful she's for him, and she's crying before she realizes it.

When he comes back from his morning routine, she approaches him slowly.

"So?" he asks, with a look on his face that could be considered indifferent, if she didn't know better. "Did you like it?"

She nods and hugs him and kisses him. "Thank you."

 **V**  
It's almost spring, now, and Squall literally itches to go to the park and draw.

On the first Sunday afternoon without rain, they prepare to go out, Squall with his drawing set, and Rinoa with her book and Angelo's leash. They find a good place to sit, and Rinoa finds herself entranced by the movement of his hands on the canvas. He has chosen to try oil painting, and she watches as he struggles to get everything right: the color of the leaves, and the sun running through the trees' branches, even the grey stone of the path and the bench in front of them.

She basically doesn't read. She starts with a question, and Squall answers and starts explaining, and she doesn't feel bored, nor he feels forced. With Garden's things there was always a monotony in his lessons, something that made Cid rethink about making him a teacher. But now there's a passion, a comprehension of what he's doing, a sincere effort to make her understand, to make her part of what he's doing, and she smiles because he's making her happy, and when she says that to him he just stares at her as if he doesn't believe it.

"You're really good," she says.

"It's just technique, really," he answers. "Here, you can try too."

"I don't think it's a good idea…" She thinks about her President's train, and she doesn't want to ruin his painting, something so beautiful and so full of passion and… and full of Squall.

He shakes his head, and grabs her arm. He guides her until she's sitting between his open legs, her back against his chest. His breath is warm and tickles her neck when he speaks. "Give me your hand."

She does, but she's trembling. He closes her fingers around the brush, gently, and then takes her hand in his, and guides her movement on the canvas. "See?" he asks, and she watches his hand moving her own to draw the bench, and she almost doesn't breath for fear of ruining everything. "You're too tense," he whispers, moving his free hand to touch her thigh. "Just relax."

Every muscle in her body aches when he finally lets her go, the bench on the painting finished. She breathes again, and he smiles, and he feels as happy as ever.

"Can we put this in our shop?" he asks.

"It's yours," she answers. "You can do what you want."

He shakes his head, realizing he'll have to massage her when they get home, because the tension has left her aching everywhere.

"It's not mine," he says, taking her hand as they start walking. "It's ours."

 **VI**  
In June, when they've been living together for almost a year, they decide to invite their fathers for dinner.

Rinoa's nervous, because she wants everything to be perfect and her cooking is far from perfect, and Squall tries to calm her and help her relax. "Everything will be fine," he keeps repeating, but he's nervous, too, and he doesn't understand why.

She's wearing a light blue dress she bought for this, something she chose with him. It reaches her knees, and the skirt is flowing around her legs every time she moves or spins, and she's adjusting the sleeves on her elbows when he enters the bedroom, struggling with a tie.

"Why are you wearing that?" she asks, before reaching out to help him.

"Because there's your father," he answers, and she laughs a little.

"He likes you," she says, moving her hands on his shoulders, as if she's trying to smooth invisible puckerings on his buttoned up shirt.

"He locked you in a room to keep you away from me."

She sighs, snaking her arms around his neck, and she doesn't speak until she feels his hands on her hips. "Well, it didn't work. And you've been repeating that everything will be fine all week, so what's the problem now?"

"They're almost here," he says, and Rinoa may think he's trying to avoid the discussion, if she didn't understand what he really means: he's nervous because their fathers are almost here. It was much more easier to say everything would be fine a few days ago, when the dinner was still far away, just an idea. It's real, now.

"Everything will be fine," she says. "You'll see."

The dinner goes smoothly, and Squall is almost relaxed when Laguna asks something that makes him almost choke on his wine. "Did you paint that?"

Squall follows his stare on a portrait of him and Rinoa hanging in their living room, just above the fireplace. He basically copied a picture Selphie shot in September: they were behind the shop's counter, and he had just put a cardigan on Rinoa's shoulders. They were looking at each other, smiling, his eyes almost covered by his hair and his hand still on her back, and she had her eyes half-closed, as if expecting a kiss. He remembers she had opened them fully when she had heard Selphie taking the picture, and she had thanked him before turning to her friend to playfully scold her. He used that picture because he felt it perfectly represented them: the tenderness, the caring, the love. He hopes he managed to convey everything they are in that simple gesture.

"Yes," he says finally. "I painted that."

"You know, I learned painting in Winhill," says Laguna. "I had several broken bones, and it took a while to heal fully. I was bored, and Raine said she only had paper and colors to keep me entertained. They were Ellone's, but she let me use them. I learned painting after that."

Squall remembers something, and suddenly he understands. "The painting on your office door, in Esthar. Winhill's street. You painted that, didn't you?"

"I kept painting in Esthar. I basically paint only fruit or landscapes, but sometimes I just need to remember. And I paint Winhill."

"Because you miss it," says Squall.

"Yeah, because I miss it."

They simply look at each other for a few minutes, the silence stretching between them all. Caraway finally breaks it. "My daughter looks really beautiful in that painting. I think you're very talented."

"Thanks, sir."

Rinoa laughs a little, because Squall keeps calling her father 'sir' and her father keeps telling him he can call him simply Fury. It will take awhile, and she sees her father is not annoyed. She doesn't think he understands, but it's ok. Everything will be fine.

She gently brushes her leg against Squall's, to encourage him to make the decision she knows he's still debating on with himself. He watches Laguna again, and scratches the back of his head, something he has in common with his father.

"I have other paintings," he says simply.

"I'd love to see them."

Later, when they climb in bed together and she snugs closer to him to fall asleep with her head on his chest, he softly confesses he liked spending time with his father, talking about that common passion of theirs.

 **VII**  
His birthday is approaching, and she decides for a weekend in Dollet as a gift.

She organizes everything: the trip, the hotel, visits at local museums, she even buys tickets for an art exhibition he may like. They will have three days full of activities, but she hopes to make him happy.

When she talks about it, at dinner, he smiles. "It's really wonderful. Thank you."

"We can choose something else, if you want."

"Everything you chose is just perfect. Thank you."

They go upstairs to pack, and she sees he's also bringing with him his drawing set. Sometimes she thinks that set is the best gift she has ever given to him: he loves it, he always has it with him, and art is really a passion for him. He keeps painting even when he's in the shop; it changed in these months, becoming a bookstore and literary and artistic café. People enter to read, have a drink, admire his paintings, talk about books and art. Kids enter to play in the children's corner, and they love Angelo. Someone has asked Squall to buy the park landscape hanging on the counter, the one he painted with Rinoa. He says he can't, because that painting is theirs, his and Rinoa's, and he wouldn't part from it for all the gil in the world.

She can't wait to see what he'll paint in Dollet. He starts sketching on the train, while she reads a book. Sometimes he sketches with only his memory as reference: she thinks that's even better, because she can see places with his memory's eyes, and she thinks that's not something to dismiss easily. It's like looking into his soul, and her magic rejoice at these many possibilities to know him, to understand him, to fully comprehend his complicated and wonderful soul.

He's sketching the beach, when the train enters Dollet's station. "I'll finish tonight," he says. They leave everything in the hotel's room; he just takes a notepad with him, and a pencil. They should start at the museum, and after Squall sketches quickly the fountain in the middle of city, to paint it when they come back in Timber, they start their artistic vacation.

It's there, in that museum, that happens something that makes her soul cry in anguish for him.

They enter the hall dedicated to Dollet's first royal family. There are many objects: diaries, jewels with intricate designs of ancient Centra, portraits. Squall's eyes seem glued to something hanging on the opposite wall, and when they come nearer she realizes it's a tapestry.

"What's that?" asks Squall.

"I think it's the royal family tree. Let's see…" She reads the plaque near the tapestry. "The royal family commissioned this tapestry almost three centuries ago. Every member of the family has a space here. The plaque says that if you look carefully, you can see a symbol near every name of the tree."

"A family tree," he repeats. He has never seen one, and at Garden no one ever taught him about family trees: of course, he thinks. Why remind orphans of real families out there?

They stare at the tapestry in silence, for a few minutes. Rinoa feels there's something wrong, but can't quite put her finger on it, until she hears him say something under his breath.

"I'm no one."

"Sorry?" she asks, turning abruptly to look at him.

"I'm no one, Rinoa."

"Why would you-"

"Because I don't have a family. I know who's my father, and I know who my mother was. But I don't have a family, I don't even know if Ellone is a relative or not. It's just…" He says nothing for a while, and then he talks again, before she has a chance to speak. "You know your father, and your mother, and you know everything you should know about them. You told me once you even remember your grandparents. I have nothing like this. I'm no one."

"You could talk to Laguna-"

"Why? He doesn't know anything about Raine's family."

"But maybe-"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

He turns and goes away, and she stares at the tapestry for a minute, wondering how she could help him, before following him out of the room.

They don't talk about it for the entire trip. She almost feels he forgot everything: they have a free afternoon and they spend it on the beach, and he even asks her to wear that blue bikini he likes so much. He paints, but she feels there's something wrong in the landscape of Dollet – something that reminds her of Centra, of Edea's orphanage, of his lost childhood. She say nothing, though.

"I can do better," he says on the train, staring at his painting.

"You just need more time," she answers, touching his leg to make him relax, and she hopes it's true.

 **VIII**  
It's Christmas morning.

She tries to smile, although nervously, while she approaches him with her gift hidden behind her back. He's sitting on the sofa, playing with the new toy they bought Angelo, with her gift beside him. She wants to make him think she's serene and happy, but she's nervous as hell because she hopes he'll like the gift. It's so personal he may think it's not her business, after all.

He smiles, silently inviting her to sit beside him, and she does.

"Here's my gift," he starts, but she stops him.

"Open mine first, please." She hands him a long cylinder. He eyes it curiously and opens it carefully, pulling out the sheet in it. He spreads it on the coffee table, and stares at it in awe.

His family tree, with his name on the bottom, adorned by lions.

"H-how did you-?"

"Lots and lots of research. Laguna helped with his half of the family, and everything he knew about Raine's. Then I had to contact Winhill's people… that was a bit more difficult, but I managed."

Squall gently runs his fingers on the family tree Rinoa reconstructed for him. There's everyone: Laguna's parents and his grandparents and so on, and he discovers his roots, and he touches every name, feeling something in his throat. And then Raine's family, and Ellone's too – he never knew Raine and Ellone's mother were actually cousins. Everything he is is on that paper, and he feels something cold running down his cheek, and absently brushes the tear away while looking at the most precious gift he has ever received in his life.

"There's something else," says Rinoa, getting up and going upstairs. She comes back after a few minutes with what looks like a book. She sits again beside him and hands it to him. It's actually a diary, and when he opens it, he finds a message from Laguna on the first page.

"Did you… did you tell him…" He can't talk anymore.

"I told him nothing about Dollet," she answers, hugging him as he flips through the diary's pages. There are pictures, stories, everything he may want to know about Laguna's side of the family, and even something about Raine's. "I just told him I wanted to build your family tree, and he helped."

He kisses her, then, and hugs her so tightly she can't breathe, but she knows it's just the emotion and waits until he calms down. "Thanks," he whispers in her ear, loosening his hold when he senses her discomfort. "Thanks," he says again, and he repeats it until the word almost has no meaning anymore.

Only an hour later, after reading together Laguna's diary, looking for names on the family tree, he remembers his own gift, and looks embarrassed.

"I got you something, too," he says, and hands her his packet without looking at her. "It's nothing, compared to what you gave me. But…"

"It's ok," she says, touching his cheek lightly before opening the gift. Inside she finds music sheets and cds of every song her mother recorded. "Wow," she can only say, and she feels like crying and laughing. "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"I wanted to buy you a piano," he confesses. "But I didn't know if you can play it, so… we can go buy it together, if you want."

"Thanks."

They kiss again, more softly and gently than before, and when she pulls back she's smiling. "There's something else in the cylinder, you know?"

He looks at her, his brow furrowed, before looking again at the cylinder. There's another sheet, and he pulls it out. It's empty, though. "What's this for?"

"You can draw our names and symbols on top," she says, moving her finger on the paper. "And then, we can start our own family tree."

He smiles, and immediately start drawing, and when they hang both the papers on either side of the fireplace, they both hope their own family tree will be as full as Squall's.

 **IX**  
Squall is out for groceries, one hot June afternoon, when he runs into Seifer.

Rinoa said this morning they should start celebrating their anniversaries: they've been living together for three years now, and they've known each other for five. It's time, she says, and Squall can think only 'why not'?

So he's coming out of a small supermarket on the other side of the city when he runs into Seifer, his arms full of bags.

"They told me you live here. I couldn't believe it," says his rival.

"So?" he answers noncommittally. He doesn't have to explain himself to Seifer, after all.

"I thought you would be a SeeD for your entire life."

"I'm not." He reaches the car an opens the back door to put the bags away.

"And I find you living in Timber with a bookstore and café and whatever and painting things. I mean, that's not you, Squall. Where's the only person who could be a match for me with his gunblade?"

"I still train. I just don't want to be a SeeD anymore."

"But why!" Seifer doesn't even try to make the sentence a question.

Squall closes the door of his and Rinoa's car, and turns to look his rival in the eyes. "Listen, I don't have to explain why I chose what I chose. There's only one person that can request explanations from me, and that's not you." He runs a hand through his hair. "But since you want to know, fine: I was just tired. I realized I didn't want that kind of life anymore. Waking up at six in the morning, exercise routine, repeating always the same things, everyday, at lessons, taking exams I didn't really need, and being sent in missions where I could die for something I didn't believe in or someone I didn't even know. Me and Rinoa… we were serious. I didn't want to have a family at Garden. I wanted a real family and a real life, and this… this is real. I learned many things in one year in Timber, more than I ever learned in Garden for nineteen years. I want this. I don't care if you don't agree."

"You're not the Squall I knew," says Seifer, and he sounds almost defeated, almost sad, almost disappointed.

"I know. But I never knew myself, too."

Squall opens the driver door and enters the car, but before he can pull out of the parking, Seifer leans on his open window. "I'm always up for a duel."

"Yeah, sure."

Squall hopes his answer is noncommittal enough. He doesn't want to fight, he doesn't want to duel. He just wants his comforting morning routine, the exercise he does waiting eagerly for what comes next. He knows Seifer couldn't understand, and for a moment he pities him.

 **X**  
At the end of July, they decide to close the shop for two weeks.

They deserve a vacation, after all.

Squall enters the kitchen and stops, leaning on the doorframe. Rinoa is wearing a short yellow summer dress, that almost looks like a nightdress. She's leaning on the counter, carefully checking the ingredients she pulled out with the recipe's instructions. She looks almost innocent, with a finger between her lips as she softly counts under her breath: three eggs, milk, flour. She wants to learn to bake muffins for him. She's barefoot, and when she reaches out to turn the page on the book, her dress lifts a little too much. She's innocent and sexy and he loves that. He loves everything about her.

"Nice panties."

She immediately turns, pulling down her dress so her panties are covered again, and gives him a look that wants to be menacing, but is just playful. "I won't wear this dress anymore," she says, turning her attention to the book again.

"But I like it," he says, coming nearer to hug her from behind. She washed her hair and they smell like coconut and chocolate, a strange shampoo she found in a shop the other day. He thinks he likes this, too.

"Sure you do," she answers, trying to be sarcastic. His hands move over her body, and when they reach her hips he makes her turn.

"I think you're beautiful, you know?"

"Are you trying to get something from me?" she asks, still playful.

"Short dresses really suits you."

She sighs dramatically, intentionally exaggerating her reaction. "Is this one of your naughty days?"

He doesn't answer. He just smiles, running his fingers on her body, slightly brushing her breasts, until he reaches the straps of her dress. He lowers them slowly, almost curiously. She's not wearing a bra. He pushes down her dress and she moves her hips to let it fall to the ground. And then he kisses her and she laughs, because she's almost naked and he's still completely dressed, and then she lets him guide her to the sofa, with only a playful reprimand about the butter melting.

"I met Seifer, you know," he says later, still slightly breathless, with his head resting on her chest.

"Really?" she asks, lazily caressing his hair.

"Yeah. He made me think about things."

She stops touching him. This is something she always feared: Squall becoming bored of this tranquil, serene life and wanting to come back to Garden. He's been trained all his life for that, after all, so why keep running a café and painting and all that? "What do you mean?" Her voice is almost hoarse.

"About this life. He… doesn't understand why I left Garden." She tenses, and he feels it, and start kissing the space between her breasts, hoping she'll relax. "I just realized there are things I never told you. I didn't know so many things, and you helped me discover them. I didn't even know I liked painting, and now I draw every day. I… I just want to thank you." He shifts, so he can look into her eyes when he says this. "I never knew myself before meeting you. I was so adamant about what I believed, and I was so sure I'd be a SeeD for my entire life. And I didn't think I'd live to see my twenty-fifth birthday. And I didn't know who I was. Now I… I have an entire family tree."

She tilts her head against the sofa pillow, and he brushes her hair behind her ear.

"I never really told you I love you, did I?"

She shakes her head, and the movement makes a tear fall on her cheek. He brushes it away, smiling that same smile she saw on the balcony, years ago, before their very first kiss.

"I love you, because you allowed me to know myself."

She feels the tension flowing away when he says this, and she pulls him to her chest, crying of joy against his skin, and he just lulls her, repeating he loves her until she falls asleep.

 **Epilogue**  
When she wakes up, there's smell of freshly baked muffins coming from the kitchen.

She opens her eyes and finds him sitting on the ground, next to the sofa. He has pulled a sheet on her naked body, and apparently had the time to bake the muffins. She moves a little, smiling, to allow him space so they can hug on the sofa, but she stops.

Something has moved on her belly.

She looks down and gasps when she sees a light-blue velvet box, there. He moves to open it for her.

"They didn't have light blue boxes. This one is almost unique, you know? I thought you'd like it."

Then he opens the box and she sees the most beautiful Griever ring she has ever seen. It's holding a light-blue stone in its mouth, and there's something written on the inside. She's just trembling too much, though, and she sits up, letting the sheet fall, and Squall gets up from the ground to sit next to her. He pulls Griever out of the box and starts to put it on her finger, but she turns it to read what he chose to write inside.

 _To us_.

She remembers: it's the place he said he wanted to go, that day in the Infirmary, when he said he just didn't want to stay there anymore.

"I was thinking we could start filling our own family tree, you know."

"Yeah, I think so." She lets him put the ring on her finger, this time, and watches the sun entering through the window against the stone. Her hand is still trembling, but he's there to hold it with his own, and she realizes just now that his hand is still naked.

She takes off her chain, slipping off his Griever ring, and puts it back on his finger. There's something fitting in this. Griever is not his or hers anymore, it's theirs, and Rinoa smiles, moving to kiss him.

"So, where would you like to go on our honeymoon?" he asks, still with that smile on his face. He feels right, he feels complete, he feels like he knows himself.

"I don't know," she replies, her voice broken. She lifts her gaze to look at him – her boyfriend, her fiancée, her future husband, the father of her children.

"To us?" he asks, almost timidly.

"Yeah. To us."

* * *

 _ **Author's note**_ : well, yeah. Just wanted to write this, and I don't know why it came naturally in English. Sorry if there are mistakes.  
The coconut-chocolate shampoo really exists. I have it :)


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